


Baby It's Cold Outside

by screamingarrows



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pack Feels, mentions alpha!cora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamingarrows/pseuds/screamingarrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas Eve and they're alone, but they aren't lonely</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby It's Cold Outside

_I really can't stay but baby it's cold outside_

\-----

"I've got some bad news, boys," Melissa says as she walks through the back door, setting the grocery bags in her hands on the kitchen table. Scott looks up over the back of the couch and Isaac leans around the chair back. They are watching a cartoon Christmas movie but both boy’s discard the program and stand to meet her in the kitchen. She turns around and puts the gallon of milk in the fridge before looking at them with a sad, apologetic smile.

"I have to work Christmas Eve.”

Scott frowns and idly pulls a brown bag toward him. “I thought you had seniority…?”

“Christy went on maternity leave and Patrick’s fiancee is back in the states for the holidays and he wants to spend as much time with her as he can before she ships out again,” she says and reaches for a bag. Isaac reaches for the third one and slowly unpacks it, sending occasional glances over at Scott. “He said he’ll take my Easter, if that makes it better.”

Scott nods and reaches for the remaining bag.

“I know it’s our first Christmas as a family,” Melissa says as she pulls out a loaf of bread. Scott can hear Isaac’s heart beat oddly at that and he tilts his head toward Isaac in a silent question. When Isaac refuses look at him, he directs his attention back to his mom. “But I was thinking we could have a Christmas dinner instead of breakfast. How does that sound?” She raises her eyebrows and looks between Isaac and Scott.

Scott nods enthusiastically and grins. He can tell his mom feels guilty enough about not being here, she always does, and he wants to dispel as much guilt from her as he can. “Yeah, that’ll be great. We can just go over to Stiles’ for the night.”

Melissa huffs and rolls her eyes fondly. “Isaac?” The blond boy looks up with wide eyes. She hitches her shoulders as if to ask _what do you think?_   He swallows thickly and nods. He sends a glance to Scott before looking back at her.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” He nods his head then ducks it back down. She bites the inside of her cheek at his behavior and resists the urge to coddle him. She only knew a fraction of what his life had been like before being turned, but from what she’d gathered, there was a good chance he hadn't had very many good holidays.

“Okay,” she says with a deep breath and a smile plastered on her face. “Christmas dinner it is. But for tonight, pizza. Yes?”

Both boys grin at this and she gives her head a soft shake and reaches into her pocket for her phone.

\----- 

Isaac is standing in the doorway of Scott’s bedroom with his arms crossed over his chest. Melissa had left for the hospital an hour ago but neither boy had pulled themselves away from the TV until now. He watches Scott pack with a blank face and Scott looks up at him while he tosses pajamas into his duffel.

"Why the face?" Scott asks with a huff and turns toward his closet. Isaac shrugs and Scott gives him a look, complete with the pursed lips and one eyebrow raised.

"I think I'll just stay here," Isaac says finally. His voice was soft and he didn't look the Alpha in the eye. Scott frowns in confusion as he folds the shirt in his hands and pushes it in his bag.

"What? Why?"

"I just think it'd be better."

"That's ridiculous," Scott snorts. Isaac shuffles his feet and hunches his shoulders. "No man, you're coming with me to Stiles'."

Isaac stays quiet and Scott feels concern pull at his chest. He steps over to him and pauses in front of him. Scott crosses his arms with a stern look on his face. Stiles and Isaac usually got along; every now and then they got into what Scott’s learnt is “territorial” arguments over who is his right-hand man, but most of the time they were comfortable pack mates.

"What?" Scott asks firmly. If there’s a problem, it’s his responsibility to fix it, or to force them to fix it themselves. But Isaac didn't move. "Isaac," Scott says warningly. The Alpha command leaked through his voice and Isaac winces before tilting his head up and looking at Scott through his lashes.

"I... You didn't even ask Sheriff Stilinski to see if I could come. I mean, I wouldn't want to just show up and surprise him."

 _Oh_ , Scott thinks. He smiles and deliberately relaxes his posture. The tension drains out of Isaac's shoulders and Scott reaches over to push his chest playfully.

"It's fine, I promise. Sheriff Stilinski doesn't mind. I've had to stay over there a few other times for Christmas, he loves it." Scott nods at his own words, remembering a time when he and Stiles had been little and he’d stayed for the first time. Both his parents were working and the Sheriff and Claudia had made Scott and Stiles hot chocolate and helped build a fort to catch Santa. They’d both fallen asleep before seeing the man come down the fireplace, but “Santa” had left them a note about the importance of sleeping in their own beds.

Isaac straightens but chews nervously on his lip.

"Go pack," Scott orders gently. "It's all good."

Isaac backs up but hesitates in the hallway until Scott throws a ball of socks at him. Isaac catches them as they bounce off his shoulder and throws them back, hitting Scott in the back of the head, before dashing to his room.

He packs quickly. He still doesn't have much, although Melissa was doing her best to make sure it didn’t stay that way for long. He zips up his duffel and tosses it towards his door. He scrutinizes himself in the mirror before swapping out the blue shirt he is wearing for white, and pulling on his gray sweater. He runs a hand through his hair and nods approvingly before turning back to the hall and pausing at Scott’s door.

His Alpha was standing at the foot of his bed, texting, and Isaac drops his bag at the door before walking in.

“Still packing McCall?”  He drawls before flopping onto Scott’s bed.

“Yeah, well,” Scott murmurs absently as he finished his text. He tosses the phone on top of his bag and turns to his closet to look for a jacket. “Not all of us can roll out of bed pretty, Lahey.”

“Oh, ha, that’s hilarious,” Isaac responds sarcastically. “It actually does takes effort to look this flawless.”

Scott snorts and pulls out a black jacket. He slips it over his red shirt; it clings to his broad shoulders as he zips it up. "Ready?" Isaac nods and rolls to his feet.

They walk down the street as snow falls around them. It melts on their skin and sticks to their clothes; had they been human they would've assumed it was just a nice little Christmas surprise, but it smelled different. Sulfuric.

A warning of what's to come.

It wasn't the first threat against Beacon Hills since the darach. The town was really starting to live upto its name, and Scott's pack has already bested two small rival packs for the territory. Dr. Deaton wasn’t certain what was causing the strange weather, but he knew it wasn’t good.

Scott's nose twitches and Isaac runs a hand through his curls, attempting to dislodge the flakes before they melted. They walked in unison, their footsteps snapping against the frozen concrete ominously. The wind is colder than they’ve ever felt it in California, and Scott wraps his arms around his chest tighter.

It’s a relief when they could finally see Stiles’ house. Isaac gives Scott a sideways look before taking off toward the house at a sprint. Scott takes a moment to figure out what Isaac was doing before recognizing the challenge in Isaac’s eyes and darting after him. Although Isaac had the head start, they both end up on the porch at the same time, panting, face red from the wind and sudden exertion. Scott grins and pulls on the screen door. He knocks three times before opening the door and walking in.

“Hey, Stiles!” He calls out. Sheriff Stilinski peers around the corner with an eyebrow raised.

“Scott? Isaac?”

Then Stiles is walking around his father. He has an apron on and a wooden spoon in his hand.

"Scott! Isaac!" He greets enthusiastically. His grin widens when he sees their bags and his eyes flicker between Isaac and Scott happily.

"Staying the night?"

Scott can feel Isaac's eyes on him when he nods. He glances up at Sheriff Stilinski and smiles. "If that's alright," he adds.

The Sheriff grins and nods. "You boys know you're welcome any time." His eyes linger on Isaac before he turns back to the kitchen. “Set your stuff upstairs and come help,” he orders and Stiles widens his eyes comically and shakes his head to mimic his father. Scott rolls his eyes before leading Isaac up to Stiles’ room. They sit their stuff at the foot of Stiles’ bed and are on their way out when Scott catches the scent of Mint Mojito gum. He tilts his head and sniffs, letting his nose lead him to Stiles’ desk. He tilts a book up to look under it and grins when he finds the pack of Stiles’ favorite gum. He steals a piece and wordlessly offers a stick to Isaac, who shakes his head. Scott shrugs.

“Suit yourself,” he says and chews the gum happily. They walk down to the kitchen and stand awkwardly in the doorway while Stiles bustles around his father.

“Isaac, you’re on stuffing duty,” Stiles barks when he sees them and points to a pot of water on the stove and a red box of mix sitting beside it on the counter.

“Scott, potato casserole.” Scott joined Stiles on the counter and listens as Stiles tells him what to do. When Stiles pauses suddenly mid-sentence, Scott looks up in confusion before seeing Stiles’ face. His mouth is open in a small ‘o’ and his left eye was twitching dramatically.

“Did you steal my gum?” He asks and Scott grins, crinkling the skin around his eyes, and Stiles takes a shocked step back.

“Stealing? In the home of a Sheriff? Dad! Arrest him!” Stiles points a potato covered finger at him and Scott can’t resist the urge to blow a bubble. It pops as the Sheriff looks over his shoulder.

“Scott, don’t antagonize him,” the Sheriff pleaded and Scott’s grin became wicked. He pops three more bubbled against the roof of his mouth.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replies innocently. Stiles flicks a chunk of potato at him.

“You can make it yourself, thief,” Stiles huffs before going back to making a pudding.

Stiles is keeping up a constant stream of chatter in the background, and so it’s a shock to Isaac when he feels Sheriff Stilinski’s hand over his. He hadn't heard the man and his heart begins to race at the surprise. The Sheriff rests his hand over Isaac's and guides him, making the spoon scrape the bottom of the pan.

“Make sure you get the bottom or else it’ll burn,” the Sheriff says gently and Isaac has to force himself to breath but he’s doing it wrong and his hand is so close to the side of the hot pot or worse, the eye; it’d be so easy for the Sheriff to just force his hand to the left, to hold his hand against the hot metal until his skin charred and blistered…

“I-I’m sorry,” Isaac says immediately and his hand twitches; he’s aching to pull it out of the grip but the Sheriff’s hand is already moving away.

“It’s okay,” he reassures and Isaac immediately feels ridiculous because of course Sheriff Stilinski would never do something like that. “It’s one of the rare holidays the kid lets me eat what I want and I intend to eat as much of it all as I can,” he continues and winks. Isaac gives him a shaky smile and the Sheriff pats him on the back before going back to whatever it is he’s mixing. The gooey mixture is nearly purple and for the life of him, Isaac can’t guess what it is. He sighs as he mixes the stuffing and tries to get his nerves under control. He always gets nervous around the holidays, it was always hard to tell with his father when a seemingly insignificant thing would set him off, and he's had to keep reminding himself that his father isn't around anymore.

It isn’t much longer until the stuffing is done. Isaac spots the pot lid sitting near the sink and he turns the eye off and covers the pot. The rest of the pack are finishing up on the dish they were preparing and Stiles claps his hands once approvingly.

“Perfect. Now we just have to wait on the turkey and it’ll be all set,” Stiles nods his head firmly and Scott grins.

“Alright boys, I’ll be watching the game if you need me,” the Sheriff says before making his exit. Scott looks to Stiles, who shrugs, and all three follow Sheriff Stilinski out to the living room. The Sheriff is sitting in the old recliner and Stiles sank into the arm-seat of the couch. Scott quickly occupied the other end, leaving Isaac no other place but the center. Isaac sits stiffly and Scott tucks his feet up, sticking his toes under Isaac’s thigh. They’re quiet for all of five minutes before Stiles speaks.

"I saw Derek at the store, did you know he was back in town?" He asks, almost trying too hard to be casual. The Sheriff raises his eyebrows but doesn't take his eyes off the TV. Scott frowns and shifts look around Isaac.

"What?"

"Yeah, I invited him for dinner but he said he and Cora were doing a thing," Stiles says quickly, his heart slightly increasing in tempo. Scott ignores it and eyes flicker to Isaac. Isaac had told Scott what happened the night he'd shown up at the McCall's residence and Scott had been livid, but Isaac had forgiven his ex-Alpha and pleaded for Scott to forgive him too. He grudgingly did but he wasn't about to just forget it. Isaac is secretly pleased with Scott's protectiveness, it has been a long time since someone has gotten angry on his behalf.

Isaac nods just barely but it's enough. _I'm okay._ Scott looks back to Stiles. He's tapping his fingers against the couch arm and is looking awkward as he slouches into the cushions.

"Cora's at an Alpha Summit in Virginia," Scott says finally. The Alpha Summit was a weird, bi-annual meeting between the Alpha’s of allying packs, just to check up and make sure no one was having any problems. The Hale pack had been members of the alliance for a long time, Scott would guess for centuries, and Cora had received an automatic invitation. Scott had been invited sometime before Thanksgiving. A beta from Oregon had cautiously talked to him, apparently his connections to the Hale pack made him an honorary ally or something. Scott declined the invitation, knowing he couldn't be away from his mother or pack for Christmas.

Stiles frowns and his tapping instantly stops. “What?”

“Cora’s not in town,” Scott says again and Isaac’s eyes slip to Stiles. Stiles’ back has stiffened and he was chewing on his bottom lip, looking down at the coffee table.

“Oh,” he says softly, the word coming out in a delayed exhale.

“Maybe he just didn't want to impose,” Isaac speaks up gently.

“Yeah,” Scott chimes in. “You know Derek, always feeling like a burden.”

The Sheriff was trying very hard to make it look like he wasn’t listening in but Scott saw his eyes flicker over to them when Isaac nudged Stiles with his shoulder. “You should call him, tell him to get his stubborn a-,” Isaac’s voice cut off with a choking sound and the Sheriff lets out a small cough to cover up his laugh. Stiles doesn’t answer and instead chooses to glower at the TV screen.

“No,” he says finally, drawing the attention from everyone in the room. “If he wants to spend Christmas Eve alone, then let him.” Stiles is aware of how childish he sounds and resists the urge to cross his arms into a proper pout.

“Stiles,” Sheriff Stilinski tisks gently. Stiles’ chest rises as he takes a deep breath at his father’s tone. He knows no one should be alone on Christmas, especially if a Stilinski has the power to change it. His parents raised him better and Stiles feels a flush of heat warm the back of his neck.

"Fine," he huffs and reaches for his cell phone. "I'll call him." He stands and walks out of the room. Scott and Isaac flank him and follow him up to his bedroom. Stiles is sitting at his desk, the dial tone rings loudly in the quiet room before it clicks and Derek answers.

"What?" He growls and Stiles clenches his jaw.

"How's my favorite sourwolf doing?" He forced himself to ask casually. Derek huffs at the nickname and Stiles can imagine the eyeroll that accompanies it.

"Listen, so I know Cora isn't in town and the invitation for dinner still stands," Stiles says and spins his chair so his back is to Isaac and Scott, who were still standing in the doorway. Scott walks to the edge of Stiles bed and sits down with Isaac following him. He can hear Derek snarl something down the line and Stiles heart races. Without thinking, Scott reaches across the short distance and grabs the phone before Stiles can retort back.

"Derek, be here at six. We're having dinner and you're going to be here," his Alpha command bleeds through and he can hear Derek breath heavily through his nose.

"Fine," he snarls after a few tense moments, during which Scott wondered if Cora would rip his head off for ordering her beta, or if Derek would. The sudden beep of a call disconnected startles Scott and he ends the call on his end before tossing it back to Stiles.

"He'll be here," he says and Stiles raises an eyebrow and nods.

"Should we invite the rest of the pack?" Isaac asks and they look at him. "I mean, it's weird to have most of the pack and not invite the last two," he clarifies, looking to Scott. Scott looks up to Stiles and shrugs his shoulders.

"As long as your dad won't mind hosting a pack dinner," Scott smirks and Stiles snorts while scrolling through his contact list.

"As long as we don't call it that he'll be fine."

Stiles had told his dad everything after the darach incident. He told him about Scott's bite, the hunters, Peter's death and miraculous return to the living; he told him about Jackson and Lydia; Boyd and Erica; the Alpha pack and Scott's rise to True Alpha. The Sheriff had been shocked to say the least, and upset that Stiles had lied to him, but accepting nonetheless. Stiles was still hesitant to expose his dad completely into the werewolf natures he currently played with but his dad has seemed progressively more interested in the knowledge, occasionally even asking Stiles specific questions about it.

Secretly, Stiles thinks Melissa has helped him come to terms with it more than Stiles ever could.

"Hello?" Lydia's voice filters out of the phone.

"Hey Lydia," Stiles greets. "What're you doing tonight?"

Lydia opens her mouth, prepared to lie about her extended family being in town and they're all here for dinner and are staying for Christmas and she really must be going, she has guests to entertain, but pauses. This is Stiles and she really can't bring herself to lie to him. She glances around the empty room and rubs her lips together.

"Nothing, why?" She can't help that her voice comes out defensive but Stiles doesn't rile up. Maybe that's why she likes him so much, he doesn't take her attitude personally.

"We're having a pack dinner at my place if you want to come. Sleepover after's optional," Stiles jokes and she can hear a _thump_ and then he's complaining to someone else in the room that _it was just a joke_. A smile pulls at her lips and she rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, I'll be there."

"Great, dinner's at six."

He hangs up and Lydia stands. She walks upstairs to her bedroom and throws open her closet doors. She taps her phone against her chin before flipping it open and tapping out a quick text to Allison.

 _'Are you sleeping over at Stiles'?'_ She knew the question was a joke, but she didn't have anyone waiting on her for Christmas (who knew where her mother even was) and if Allison was, then she would too.  

She pulls out a small white dress and holds it up. She looks at herself in the mirror before scrunching her nose and tossing it on her bed. She flips through her clothes before spotting a thick cream-colored sweater. She pulls it out and holds it up before nodding smugly. She matches it with a black pencil skirt and is looking for her favorite blood red heels when her phone beeps. She reaches for it and sees a reply from Allison.

_'What are you talking about?'_

Allison bites her lip and furrows her brow as she looks down at her phone before pocketing it again. Her dad comes into the room and frowns when he sees her face.

"What's wrong?"

Allison loosens her face and shrugs her shoulders. "Nothing, just something Lydia texted me."

"Oh, is everything okay?" He asks casually. Allison nods as her phone vibrates again. It's longer and she can tell its a ring; she answers without looking at the caller ID, assuming it's Lydia.

"Hey," she answers and is surprised to hear Scott on the other end.

"Hi," he says and stands. He paces to Stiles' window and looks out it. He can hear a shuffling noise and then it's silent.

"Hey," she says again, softer this time.

"Hi," he repeats and Stiles rolls his eyes. Scott's silent until Stiles throws a pencil at him. He clears his throat and tosses the pencil back; Stiles ducks just in time to avoid having the projectile smack his forehead.

"Uh, we're having a sort of pack dinner at Stiles' tonight if you want to come," his voice is shaky and nervous and he blushes in embarrassment. "It's at six."

"I'll have to ask my dad," she says slowly and Scott exhales. He can hear her moving and her voice is muffled when she speaks again. He listens in silence as she asks her father and he winces when he immediately says no.

Allison is in the middle of pleading when he suddenly says, "Tell him he's invited."

Both Isaac and Stiles stiffen and stare at him. He tries his best to ignore them while focusing on what's happening on the other end of the call. It's silent, and Scott can only assume they're staring each other down.

"Fine," Chris finally relents and Scott grins triumphantly.

"Thanks," Allison says and Scott can hear the smile in her voice. "I'll see you at six," she says into the phone and he nods.

"Yeah, see you." He hangs up the phone with a sheepish grin on his face, which immediately falls when he sees the look on Stiles' and Isaac's face

"What?" He asks defensively. Stiles rolls his eyes so dramatically he has to move his entire head.

"You did not just invite her dad."

"Who is a hunter," Isaac chimes in. His eyebrows are raised and his blue eyes are wide in worry.

"I- ow! Stiles!" Scott whines. Stiles slumps back in his seat as his dictionary he just threw fell to the ground, luckily landing on its spine so as not to bend the pages. Scott rubs a spot on his shoulder that was already healing from the sharp book corner.

"You're an idiot," Stiles says grumpily and Isaac huffs in agreement.

"He's not a hunter anymore," Scott says, frowning and looking between his friends.

"Sure, tell that to Derek." Scott freezes and winces.

"Well, he... He should know her dad won't do anything in the Sheriff's house right? I mean, that would just be stupid."

"Whatever," Stiles says gruffly. Scott looks down guiltily and Stiles rolls his eyes before adding, " _You_ get to deal with that attitude."

Stiles stands and starts to walk out of his room. In the corner of his eye, he sees Isaac start to get up before sitting back down and looking to Scott. He stops abruptly and turns, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Are you kidding me right now? You’re seriously asking permission to follow me out of the room. Isaac, buddy, really?” Stiles huffs. Isaac stands quickly and pushes past Stiles, knocking his shoulder against Stiles’.

“Stiles, leave him alone,” Scott says, sounding very much like a parent talking to his oldest child.

“What’re you doing to him?” Stiles demands instead, pacing his room to stand in front of Scott.

“ _What?_ ” Scott nearly screeches. Stiles narrows his eyes and resists the urge to tap his foot.

“He was never this hesitant when Derek was his Alpha,” Stiles lowers his voice, but he’s sure Isaac is able to hear them regardless.

“I’m not doing anything Stiles! I-,” Scott cuts himself off and glances at the door. He knows Isaac is standing at the top of the steps, listening to what they’re saying about him. “I’ll talk to you about it later,” he says in a voice barely a whisper. “Just leave him alone.”

Stiles purses his lips and evaluates Scott’s face. He knows Scott isn’t lying; the poor kid never had a good poker face, and Stiles has always been able to tell when he was lying. Stiles seems to accept his plea because he turns and heads back out. Scott lets his shoulders droop for a moment and listens as Stiles gets to the steps.

“Come on, Lahey,” Stiles says. Scott can hear Isaac nudge Stiles into the wall and grumble something about a horrific, bloody death, to which Stiles snorts and jumps the last few stairs. Scott huffs and fiddles with his cell phone. How was he supposed to tell Stiles that Isaac has been walking on eggshells around him since he’d become an Alpha? He keeps looking for approval, trying to keep in Scott’s good graces, because then he’d have no reason to kick Isaac out of the pack. Scott knows this; Isaac talks in his sleep. He knows Isaac panics about his growing attraction to Allison, panics about not following the rules close enough, not doing exactly as he says. He’d rather be a mindless drone than an omega, because Derek had drilled into his head that an omega was the worst thing that could happen to a wolf. Erica and Boyd did nothing to help that idea. They weren’t alone, but they had no Alpha to lead them, and now they were dead. Isaac has never wanted to die.

Not to mention, he’s in an unfamiliar situation, and Scott has overheard his mother talk about abused kids before to know how drastically their mindset changes when they’re in an unfamiliar environment. He’s not given much time to think before Stiles brings him out of his musings

“Scott! Get your furry little ass down here!” He shouts and Scott hurries down the steps. He senses Isaac’s in a better mood and he almost wishes he’d been paying more attention to what Stiles had said to him.

“We have to go get the fold-out table from the shed and if you think for one second I’m going to let you stay inside all nice and warm, you are very wrong.” Isaac’s lips twist in amusement and he follows Stiles out the back door. Scott turns wide eyes toward the Sheriff, but he just backs away with his hands raised.

“Hey, don’t look at me,” he says. Scott grins fondly and looks after his pack. They left the door open and the winter wind is quickly stealing the heat from the kitchen. He darts out the door and pulls it closed behind him before wrapping his arms tightly across his chest. Unease settled over him instantly as the foreign smells drowns away the rich nature scent of the earth.

He wanders over to the shed, where Stiles is trying to control the trembling in his fingers long enough to slip the small key into the even smaller lock.

“Oh my God,” he exclaims after another failed attempt. “Who the hell made a lock this small and why did my father feel the need to buy it?”

“Just give it to me,” Isaac grumbles and snatches the key from Stiles’ hand. Stiles’ teeth chatter as the wind blows around them and when Isaac gets the lock open, he dashes inside, taking some comfort in windless space.

“Alright, if I were a table, where would I be?” Stiles mumbles to himself as he looks around the cluttered shed. Scott steps in and starts to move things around, looking along the wall. Isaac is by the door, one foot propped against the shed floor with the rest of his body firmly on the outside. He glances around; the snow has made him paranoid and he feels like eyes are on him, but he sees no one. Suddenly, Stiles lets out an “Ah ha!” and draws Isaac’s attention to him.

Stiles and Scott are maneuvering the large grey table out from behind an old dresser, nearly knocking over a blue glass vase which was sitting precariously on top. The table is long and Isaac briefly wonders where they’ll put it. Scott and Stiles lift on the count of three and slowly carry it out. Isaac wordlessly locks the shed behind them before skipping to their sides. Stiles whines about having to carry the table when there are two perfectly functioning werewolves, he shouldn’t have to lift a finger. Isaac smirks and sticks his tongue out when Scott isn’t looking.

They finally reach the sanctuary of the kitchen. The warmth works through their clothes slowly and their shoes squeak loudly on the kitchen tile. They set the table down and toe their shoes off, piling them by the wall. It’s easier to slide the table through the house, but they stop sharply when they see Lydia standing in the doorway with the Sheriff. Her skirt hugs her waist whereas her sweater is large and falls around her torso comfortably. She smirks at their stares and shuffles in her heels. They match the red earrings and lipstick she has on and she gives them a dramatic wink.

“Boys,” she greets and her eyes crinkle.

“Hey,” Stiles says slowly, “Lydia.”

“You look… nice,” Scott says at the same time. Lydia’s grin grows and her dimples deepen.

“I look better than nice,” she huffs. “Where can I put my stuff?” She holds up a sleeping bag and a pink overnight bag. Stiles eyes widen when his dad sends him a curious look and he can feel Isaac and Scott doing the same. She clears her throat impatiently and Stiles blinks out of his stunned silence.

“My room; I’ll show you,” he passes the table off to Isaac and leads Lydia to his room. Suddenly he’s thankful it’s clean but she still purses her lips in inspection anyways. She deems it suitable and sets her stuff on Stiles’ bed.

“You’re seriously staying the night?” Stiles hadn’t meant to ask that and he winces at the way it came out. She turns and raises one eyebrow.

“What, you don’t want me here?”

“I- no, yeah, you’re welcome to stay, I just… Me from like, a year and a half ago would be freaking out right now.” He laughs and his cheeks flush red. Lydia rolls her eyes and pushes playfully on Stiles’ chest.

“Allison plans on staying too,” she says as she walks out as if that makes all the sense in the world. Stiles scrunches his eyebrows together before darting after her.

“What?”

“She hasn’t asked her dad yet, but she’s going to pull the ‘Lydia needs me to stay’ card. That one always works like a charm.” Lydia says matter-of-factly and Stiles nearly shakes his head at the impending drama.

“This will be fun,” he says instead and Lydia smiles.

“That’s the spirit.”

\-----

The doorbell rings right at six o’clock. Sheriff Stilinski goes to get the door while Scott and Isaac finish moving the couch back against the wall. They’d put the table in the living room, moving the coffee table and couch to sit snugly against the wall, the tree wasn't moved from the corner sandwiched between the fireplace and wall, sitting proudly in front of the window. Lydia rushes to the door once she hears Allison and Stiles barely manages to keep Isaac and Scott back. The Sheriff shows the Argent’s into the living room. Isaac shifts behind Scott and Stiles narrows his eyes at Chris until he nods their way. Scott breathes out and it’s like a wire had been cut, draining the tension from the room.

They stand around awkwardly. Stiles widens his eyes at his dad and lifts his chin, pointing it to the table. His dad gets the message and he clears his throat.

“Alright, let’s not wait for it to get cold.” And that’s all the prompting they need. The Sheriff takes a seat and Chris sits next to him, with Allison to his side and Lydia beside her. Isaac sits across from Lydia and Scott steals the seat across Allison, probably to play footsie or something equally as appalling at a dinner table. Stiles sits across from his father and deliberately tries not to look at the empty chair beside him. It isn’t as if he actually expected Derek to come anyways, so he’s not sure why all of a sudden there’s a knot in his stomach and he feels nauseous at just the thought of eating this food. He pushes the feeling away and forces himself to scoop out sticky stuffing with a grin and a comment at Isaac’s poor mixing skills, which the werewolf retaliated by throwing a small wad of bread down the table.

It’s surprisingly civil. Who would’ve guessed hunters and werewolves would ever be dining together, sharing laughter and food as if they were friends, family.

Chris looks around the table in disbelief. Allison was laughing, her head thrown back and her hand was touching Lydia's arm. Scott was watching her from across the table and Isaac was snorting into his plate as Stiles was making rather loud commentary on his father's carving. The Sheriff did nothing but roll his eyes with a smirk and Chris felt an overwhelming force rise in his chest. It suffocates his lungs and catches in his throat. He's uncomfortable, suddenly, to the point he can't _move_. He's out of place, welcome only because of Allison.

His heart beats unevenly; the room is so loud the werewolves in the room don't notice it but Chris feels the blood drain from his face at the sudden rush of emotion. His eyes dart around the room, unconsciously looking for a pair of icy blue eyes, a flash of dark red hair that shone purple in the sunlight. His hand drops beneath the table and spasms, aching for a hand to hold.

The last time he'd been this... this _intimidated_ by a group of people was when he met Victoria's parents to ask for her hand. They'd been having a big dinner, her family was so large, and he'd cleared his throat before the clawing feeling of unease caught in his throat. He'd grabbed her hand then, held it and looked to her. She grinned at him. Her eyes held nervous excitement and he felt his own unease loosen in his throat and he could finally swallow and ask the question he'd had in his mind since after their first date.

Then, he’d been able to borrow from her strength, from her confidence. Now, he can only rub his sweaty palm against his jeans and wonder how it would’ve ended if only he’d known as much about werewolves then as he did now.

His thoughts are gratefully interrupted by a knock at the door. The Stilinski boy, Stiles, stiffens and glances at the empty seat as if _it_ had knocked before standing up. He looks as though it's painful to walk slowly to the door, his arms hung awkwardly at his sides and his legs moved in jerky motions. Chris wonders idly if it's a girl he'd been waiting on as he spears a slice of turkey and sticks it in his mouth.

Stiles pulls the door open with a smile on his face. The snow is still falling, blanketing the sidewalks and streets in a thin layer of white. Derek is standing in the doorway, snow falling in his dark hair and on his tense shoulders. He steps in when Stiles opens the door wider and shakes the snow off his shoulders. It takes him a minute before he smells something off and takes half a step back outside.

"What are they doing here?" He growls and Stiles glances behind him.

"Scott invited them. They come in peace," Stiles says in attempt to lighten the mood, to keep Derek from running. Derek's chest is rising and falling rapidly and his body tenses.

"Stiles," he says and it sounds like a plea. It's soft and low, sending a shiver down Stiles' spine. There’s laughter coming from the other room and Derek narrows his eyes in the room.

“The whole pack’s here, Derek. He won’t do anything.” Stiles can see the indecision in Derek’s eyes and he opens his mouth before thinking and says, “I promise.”

Derek breathes heavily out through his nose before stepping inside. His movements are hesitant and Stiles feels overwhelmed with sadness, because how strange would the situation have to be before Derek moved with the caution he was moving with now?

Stiles wordlessly directs Derek’s attention to the pile of shoes lining the wall and Derek toes his shoes off. His socks are thick and Stiles almost nods in satisfaction that at least he’s somewhat taking care of himself. When Stiles looks up, Derek's eyes are hard and his face is blank; Stiles swallows the lump in his throat and leads Derek into the living room.

The room trickles into silence and all eyes turn to them when they enter. Derek pauses in the doorway and his eyes flicker around the room. He relaxes slightly at the sight of Scott and Isaac but his eyes narrow suspiciously on Chris.

"Look who finally showed," Stiles says and continues to his seat.

"Hey Derek," Isaac says softly and Scott nods his head in greeting. Stiles looks over his shoulder and gives Derek a pointed look. Derek's nostrils flare but he complies and sits stiffly in the chair between Stiles and Scott. The tension seemed to get thicker in the span of 30 seconds and when Stiles looks up, he sees why.

Derek and Chris are eyeballing each other across the table. Derek's eyes are wide and something flickers across Derek's face but it's gone before Stiles is even sure he saw it. Chris looks away and takes another mouthful of food. Derek's eyes move around the room and Stiles can't take the silence anymore.

"Yams?" He asks. His voice is loud and Derek's head whips to him. He tilts his head minutely to the side before furrowing his eyebrows and shaking his head.

"Anyone?" He says, almost desperately. Scott, the crooked-jawed prince he is, reaches across Derek and makes grabby-hands.

"Gimme," he demands and Stiles passes him the bowl.

"Help yourself to anything," Stiles says when Derek still hadn't moved. "Stuffing's not half-bad," he teased. Isaac leaned around Scott and gave Stiles a look that promised pain.

"Make one more crack about the stuffing. Do it," Isaac threatens and Stiles can't help the cheeky grin that grows on his face.

"Stiles," both Scott and the Sheriff say warningly and Stiles leans back in his chair, mouth flapping in mock-offense.

"Jeez," he huffs and Lydia laughs.

They goof off more, Stiles and Isaac throw comment after comment at each other, dragging Allison into it by coming to Isaac's defense, which only forced Lydia to playfully counter Allison by defending Stiles. Scott was torn between the two sides and he ended up switching arguments every other quip.

It's nice and friendly and no one glares or snarls and the words aren't meant to hurt. Derek slowly piles his plate and he hides a smile.

\-----

The snow has temporarily stopped by the time they finish eating. Chris insists on helping pack everything up and so the teenagers are left to move the living room back to the way it was.

Scott and Stiles are moving the couch into position when Chris clears his throat in the doorway. He catches the rooms attention and he smiles tightly at the group.

"Allison, time to go. It's starting to snow again," he says. Allison opens her mouth but Lydia speaks before she could say anything.

"Go? I thought you said you were sleeping over?" She gave Allison a worried look. Scott and Isaac widen their eyes and look at each other.

"Allison," Chris says warningly. He steps into the room.

"I thought you asked if I was _coming_ ," Allison hisses to Lydia and sends her dad a wide-eyed look.

"You can't leave me alone here," Lydia says, gripping Allison's arm and thinning her lips. Stiles watches in amazement. The scene that these two were making rivaled the ones he and Scott would make when they were younger.

Allison looks torn, her head twisting between Lydia and her father.

"Let's speak in the hallway," he says firmly. His mouth is pressed in a thin line and Allison follows him, giving Lydia a worried look over her shoulder.

Chris turns on his daughter the moment they reach the door. She stops abruptly, her curls bouncing around her face and over her shoulder.

"What was that?"

"I don't know," Allison says immediately. "Lydia texted me earlier but I thought she was just talking about the dinner."

Chris is breathing heavily out of his nose, hyper aware that he's in a house of werewolves and they can hear everything that's going on.

"Get you things. Tell Lydia we can take her home. We're leaving." Chris clenches his jaw and Allison gapes at him.

"Lydia's mom isn't in town."

"Then she can stay with us," he responds quickly.

"Dad-"

"No, Allison."

"We're pack, they won't-" Allison cuts herself off at the dangerous look that flashes across her fathers face.

"Don't _ever_ call them that." His voice is low and dangerous and, not for the first time, Allison sees why he's to be feared.

Allison takes a moment to catch her breath. Her heart is racing in her chest and they just stare at each other.

"They're my friends dad. I've saved their life more times than I can count and they've saved mine just as much. I'm safe."

Chris knows this. He knows his daughter has risked her life to help them. He knows they'd protect her, have protected her. But that knowledge does nothing to calm his immediate instinct to keep his family far away from them.

"I want to stay Dad," Allison says softly. Her eyes are wide and pleading. He has never been able to say no to that look.

Chris sighs, defeated. His eyes flicker to the silent room and then back to her.

"Fine, if you need me, call; I'll be awake."

Allison grins, wraps her arms around him, and whispers a thank you into his neck. He takes a moment to look at her, memorize how happy she looks, before walking back to the living room doorway. Sheriff Stilinski looks up at him, while the rest pretend to be busy with something around the tree, with the exception of Derek who was watching him carefully.

"Allison's going to stay with the rest of the group, if that's alright," Chris says. The Sheriff smiles warmly and nods.

"No problem," he says, making his way across the room. "I'll have Stiles fix up the spare bedroom, girls can sleep in there boys'll sleep down here."

Chris nods his head approvingly. It's not soothing, he knows first hand how quiet werewolves can be, but it's a start. He leans over and kisses Allison's forehead before nodding his goodbye to the room and walking out. Sheriff Stilinski follows him to the door and shakes his hand, thanks him for coming, tells him to drive safe.

Once he's out in the car, he pauses with his keys dangling in his hand, inches away from the dashboard.

"I know you can hear me," he says clearly.

The werewolves in the living room freeze and look at each other.

"If _anything_ happens to her, I'll hunt you all down. Code be damned."

The humans of the pack share worried looks.

"What?" Stiles asks, snapping his fingers in front of Scott's face. Scott blinks and he looks to Stiles.

"What?"

"Don't what my what," Stiles starts. "What's wrong?"

"What? Nothing," Scott says in a rush and Stiles raises one eyebrow disbelievingly. Allison frowns and Scott smiles at her. "Really."

Stiles and Lydia look at Isaac and Derek, who both look tense still but they let the matter drop.

It's easy, sitting together as a pack in the middle of Stiles' living room. The ragtag gang of misfits might not always get along, but it feels _right_.

Sheriff Stilinski stays downstairs, at first only to supervise, but then he's joining in the conversation occasionally and telling a story about a theif who got stuck in a chimney and the woman who lived there knocked him unconscious with a broom. Derek loosens up enough to be comfortable sitting in the old recliner and he chuckles at the the pack around him. Stiles can't think of the last time he'd heard Derek laugh and he makes sure to memorize the sound. It's the first time many of them have felt safe and happy and content in a long time and Stiles is selfishly glad that Ms. McCall had to work.

\-----

It's late when the Sheriff tells Stiles to get the guest bed ready, and it's only a little while after Stiles returns that his dad tells them all goodnight. He tells them not to stay up too late and that he's a light sleeper.

It's only half true, his dad sleeps like a rock unless he's on call, but the group lets him think they're successfully cowed and he retires to bed. Stiles is sure he's not actually going to sleep though, his father knows better than to leave a group of teenagers unsupervised.

Once the Sheriff's gone, Scott and Allison fold into each other on the love seat (Stiles acknowledges the cliché and rolls his eyes). Lydia finds the switch for the tree lights and Isaac turns the room lights out to let the colorful light strands project around the room. Stiles stretches out on the couch and looks over at Derek. His eyes are lidded as he stares in the tree's direction. Isaac and Lydia don't notice the attention they're receiving, choosing to instead shake the presents under the tree to try and guess what's inside.

"Those aren't even for you, what are you doing?" Stiles asks quietly. Allison and Scott have fallen asleep, she's curled into his side and his arm is draped over her shoulders. His head is nuzzled in her hair and Stiles finds it repulsively adorable.

"It's tradition," Lydia answers, as if that makes any more sense.

"Oh, okay, if it's tradition," Stiles says sarcastically.

Lydia rolls her eyes and rubs her lips together while reaching for another present to shake. Isaac murmurs something and Lydia laughs, throwing her head back. Derek snaps out of his daze at the sudden noise and he looks around, frowns. Stiles tries not to think about that reaction too hard and instead orders Lydia to be careful with the packages, she didn't know which were breakable.

She and Isaac share a look before being reduced to giggles. Stiles narrows his eyes suspiciously but Lydia gently puts down the gift and lays down with her head on the tree skirt. After a moment she reaches up and fists Isaac's shirt in her manicured fist, pulling him down beside her. He wiggles until his head is level with hers and they stare in silence up through the tree's fake branches.

It's quiet and peaceful; Stiles has almost nodded off when Isaac begins to wiggle back out of the tree. He gives Lydia's shoulder a soft shake and she hums.

"Lydia, come on, let's get you to the couch." Isaac pulls her out carefully and Stiles rests his feet on the ground so Isaac could lay her on the couch. He rests her head on Stiles thigh and she pushes back until her head is against his stomach.

"You can sit here Isaac," Stiles offers but Isaac shakes his head and sits down next to Stiles' leg.

"I'm fine," he whispers sleepily. His head rests against Stiles' knee and he's out. Stiles cards his fingers through Lydia's hair and she sighs. It's softer than he imagines it would be and her perfume reaches his nose. His eyes drift close as he breathes in the scent. It's soothing, in the same way Scott's cologne is soothing and the smell of Isaac's soap. It's friendship, family, pack.

He doesn't realize he dozed off until he hears the sound of the recliner creak. He opens his eyes and sees Derek standing in the dim light.

"What're you doing?" Stiles asks. His words are slurred by sleep and Derek avoids looking at him.

"I should get going," Derek answers after several minutes of silence. Stiles frowns and he blinks up at Derek.

"Why?"

Derek shrugs and Stiles starts blinking the sleep from his eyes. The fire has nearly gone out, the embers crackle and glow red and white, flickering and shimmering as they cool and warm rapidly. Stiles lifts Lydia's head and leans Isaac against the couch so he can stand. Derek doesn't move from the middle of the room while Stiles stokes the fire.

Stiles looks out the window and frowns at the amount of snow that has piled up on the roads.

"You can't leave, it's a mess out there."

"I'll be fine," Derek answers quietly. Stiles crosses his arms and turns to look at Derek. He's not looking at Stiles, but his eyes take in the sleeping form of the pack members.

"Stay," Stiles hears himself saying. Derek seems startled by the plea but he shakes his head.

"Why do you want to go, Derek?"

"I- this isn't my pack," he answers. His tone is hard but his eyes are soft in the light of the Christmas tree and the fire makes shadows play on Derek's face, making him look vulnerable.

"It could be."

Derek starts to hum in agreement but swallows the sound before it has a chance. He has an Alpha; Cora.

So why does he feel as though he doesn't?

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" Stiles asks. Derek looks past Stiles to the Christmas tree. He doesnt know he's going to answer until the word falls from his lips in a whisper.

"Yes."

\-----

Stiles puts milk in a pot on the stove. His reasoning is that it's quieter but really he just wants to prolong Derek's leaving.

He rummages around in the cabinet while Derek sits at the table silently. His face is mostly in shadow from the dull yellow overhead light of the stove, but Stiles really didn't want to risk waking anyone up. He grabs the cocoa mix and cinnamon and pulls out a bowl, mixing the two expertly. Derek's focus on him was like an actual weight against his back and he swallows.

"My mom used to make this," Stiles starts and then blinks in shock. That certainly wasn't what he meant to say, but now that that was out, he could feel more bubbling to the surface. "She, uh, she was a horrible cook. Absolutely awful. Burnt everything she made, but hot chocolate, that she could've won awards with."

Stiles pours the powder mixture into the milk and let's it simmer, stirring it to prevent the gross skin from forming on the top. Derek's so quiet Stiles is almost afraid he snuck out when Stiles' back was turned, but when Stiles shifts to get mugs, Derek is still sitting there.

He pours the steaming drink into two festive mugs and sets one down in front of Derek before he takes a seat. Derek blows on his while wrapping his hands around the ceramic. Slowly he lifts it up and takes a sip. Stiles tries not too look like he's watching for Derek's reaction, but he totally is. Derek's face is frustratingly blank and Stiles tries not to scowl down into his cup.

"You know, I came from a big family. We had nearly 20 people living in our house at one point," Stiles' head comes up so fast he nearly gets whiplash. Derek is looking at his hands while he talks and Stiles has the urge to reach across the table and rest his hands over Derek's. He pushes that thought away when Derek starts speaking again.

"It was always so crowded, we only had time for the premade stuff. This," he looks up and meets Stiles eyes. "This is so much better."

Stiles lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and grins.

They sip their drinks in silence. It's nice and Stiles traces the sharp outline of Derek's nose with his eyes in the dim light. Derek can feel Stiles' eyes on him but he doesn't acknowledge it. He's still thinking of the raw emotion in Stiles' voice when he talked about his mother. It's obviously a big deal and Derek's heart beats a little faster at the knowledge that Stiles shared this with him.

"My birthday's on Christmas," Derek blurts out. Stiles jumps and blinks, processing what Derek just said.

"Really? You're a Christmas baby?" Stiles asks with a smile. Derek nods and his eyes flicker to Stiles before darting away. He wants to tell Stiles something equally important but he knows he'll chicken out if he has to watch Stiles watch him.

"My mom, she'd have a wolf from an allying pack come and sneak into the house dressed as Santa," Derek smiles at the memory of coming downstairs to find the scent of a stranger, the fear he felt and then the joy, because Santa was just like him. "I'd always get a special present and the morning would be all about me. We did our Christmas things in the evening."

He can hear the calming sound of Stiles' heart beat in his ears and he focuses on that. The anchor helps keep the memory positive and slowly the knot in his stomach unwinds.

"That's adorable," Stiles says softly. Derek fights the blush that creeps up his neck and is just thankful Stiles can't smell it on him.

They turn the conversation onto safer topics and soon their hot chocolate is gone. Stiles is laying on his arm, his eyes drooping closed. Derek sits and watches him. It's probably the only time Stiles sits still, his entire body calm and heavy. Every few breaths he lets out a single snore and Derek's lips quirk up. His eyes draw imaginary lines, connecting the dark moles and light speckle of freckles. Derek wants to trace the pattern with his lips. He wants to press gentle kisses on Stiles' lips, his nose; he wants to lick at the tender skin on Stiles neck and he wants to grab Stiles so tightly he leaves bruises on his hips.

Stiles stirs and Derek coughs, looks away. Stiles blinks his eyes owlishly at him.

"I really need to be going," he says softly but Stiles lurches like Derek shouted it.

"But... It's too cold," Stiles says slowly. Derek shrugs.

"I'm a werewolf." He stands and Stiles does too. His movements are sluggish from sleep but he manages to blink himself into more alertness.

"It's your birthday," Stiles' whisper barely makes it past his lips but still Derek flinches. Derek starts for the door but Stiles reaches for him.

"Derek," he says softly and lets his hand fall short of Derek's arm. Derek doesn't have the willpower right now to continue to walk away.

"Stay," Stiles pleads again and this time, Stiles hand wraps around his and he allows himself to be pulled into the living room.

Lydia has stretched and taken claim to the couch and Derek slumps into the recliner. Stiles looks in betrayal between the occupied couch and chair. Derek feels sleep pull on him as soon as he sits down and he can't resist smiling sleepily at Stiles in smug satisfaction.

"I'm sure Isaac won't mind sharing the floor," Derek whispers. Isaac twitches at the sound of his name being spoken but otherwise, no one so much as shifts. Stiles' mouth drops open comically and he fixes Derek with the best glare he can this late (or would it be early? Stiles mentally shrugs). Derek snorts at the attempt before snuggling his back into the chair.

"Isaac may be content with the floor but I am not," Stiles puffs, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips stubbornly.

"Well _I'm_ not taking the floor," Derek argues back as his eyes drift closed. He stiffens when he feels Stiles' weight on top of him but then his scent settles over him and it's intoxicating.

Derek wraps his arms around Stiles' waist and pulls the smaller boy closer. Stiles complies and wraps his fists in Derek's shirt. Stiles tucks his head under Derek's chin and rubs his cheek against Derek's chest. The feeling is overwhelming and so primal Derek's surprised his wolf doesn't show up. He tightens his hold on Stiles and Stiles hums in satisfaction. The sound rumbles through Derek's own chest and warm happiness blossoms out from his stomach. Stiles' breathing evens out, warm against Derek's neck and Derek's eyelids flutter close.

He buries his nose in Stiles' hair and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I hope I did the characters justice. Let me know what you think!


End file.
